"Why, this is too much, sir," said the honest fisherman, holding his hand out and looking at the gold in surprise. "You will rob yourself, sir." "No, no; keep it. It is but a trifle," said Howard, pushing his hand back. "But, pray, will you answer a few questions for me?" "As many as you like, sir--and thank you for your generosity," answered the fisherman, politely. "I am very much interested in the sad story written here," said Howard, glancing at the paper which he still held in his hand. "Yes, sir, it is very sad," assented the fisherman. "How came this unknown sick woman at the Widow Videlet's house?" inquired Howard. "The poor soul came there a few days ago, sir. She was ill and quite out of her head--could give no account of herself." "Can you tell me what day she came there?" "This makes the fourth day since she came, sir. I remember it was the same day you were brought to the hotel." The young man started. It was the same day that Lora Carroll had disappeared. Could it be Lora? Had it been some other waif the great sea had cast up from its deep? "Did you see this woman? Could you describe her to me?" asked Howard, eagerly. "I saw her the day she came wandering into Dame Videlet's cottage," was the answer. "You can tell me how she looked then," said Howard, restraining his impatience by a great effort. "Yes, sir. She was a mere girl in appearance--very young and very beautiful, with black eyes and long, black hair. She was thinly clad in a fine night-dress," answered the fisherman. "Did you say she was out of her mind?" asked Howard. "Yes, sir; she raved continually." "What form did her delirium take?" "Oh, sir," cried the fisherman, in a tone of pity and sympathy for the wretched unknown, "it seemed like she had lost her baby. She was going around from one to the other in the place asking, asking everyone, for her baby. She said she was so tired and she had lost it out of her arms in the rain and the darkness, and could not find it again." Howard's heart gave a great, tumultuous bound of surprise, then almost stopped beating with the suddenness of the shock. It all rushed over him with the suddenness of a revelation. It had seemed so strange to him that Mrs. St. John should have taken the tender little babe with her in the rain and wind when she went to search for Lora. The truth flashed over him like lightning now. Xenie had found the babe upon the sand where Lora had dropped it in her fevered flight. No wonder she had been so angry and defiant when he had questioned her about it. He felt sure now, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the unknown sick woman in the poor widow's cottage could be none other than Lora herself. "Poor, unhappy creature," he thought, with a thrill of commiseration. "It must be that God himself has sent me here to succor and befriend her." He rose hurriedly and took up his crutch. "How far is Dame Videlet's cottage from here?" he inquired.